


Animal

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 07:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10381248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Aragorn slips back in for Lindir to right.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It comes so swiftly that, at first, he fears the worst—Imladris has come under attack. He’s slammed into the wall, the folded linens in his hands flying out across the floor, and he lets out a startled cry that’s quickly muffled by a hand stronger than his own. Lindir whimpers, squirming, only to catch in his peripherals who’s caught him.

He should’ve known. Estel nuzzles into the side of his face, scratching his cheek with overgrown stubble. Lindir whines into Estel’s palm, and Estel presses him closer against the wall, enveloping him entirely. 

When the game is finished and it’s clear that Lindir isn’t going to scream, the hand around his mouth falls away, slithering, instead, underneath his collar. It’s pulled brusquely open, and his breath catches for it, throat constricting. He murmurs around his shock, “Welcome home.”

“Thank you,” Estel purrs, in his deep, guttural sort of voice. It was once as melodic as a minstrel’s, but manhood has hardened him—he’s become very much a _Man_. The boy that Lindir watched blossom is long gone, and the Ranger in its place chuckles, “I’ve finally given you the slip, my dear. You were not there to greet me when I road in.”

Lindir breathes only, “I apologize.”

He would have, if he’d known. He _always_ greets his lord’s family, and Estel is certainly that. But Estel can also be as difficult as the twins, and he grins, clearly pleased with himself. He says, “I stabled my horse myself, but I know there’s more you want to do for me...”

Suppressing a shudder, Lindir inhales— _and there it is_. He can always tell when his lords are fresh from the wild. Estel may well have been out there only an hour before, maybe less—he still _reeks_ of mud and earth and sweat. His clothes have grown ratty, though they were freshly ironed when he left, and his silken hair has become a ragged mess. Worst of all, he needs a shave. Lindir mutters, “You will need a bath...”

“Are you offering to bathe me?”

Lindir shivers. The prospect of _cleaning_ someone so _dirty_ is...

Estel knows just how to play him. With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, Lindir nods, his shame staining his cheeks but not enough to stop him. Estel chuckles again as though the indecency is endearing, then grazes blunt teeth along Lindir’s jaw. Estel is always distinctly too _rough_ —Lindir’s collars will not always hide the damage. But he won’t deter it either.

He lets Estel takes his hand and tug him into the nearest open quarters, while the thrill is ripe and new.


End file.
